Suddenly Noémi exclaimed, "Mother, did you hear?—two shots on the other shore!"
They listened. There was deep stillness in the drowsy air.
"Two more shots! Mother, what is it?"
Therese tried to calm her. "They must be sportsmen, child, who are shooting there."
Noémi's cheeks lost their color, and she looked as pale as the acacia blossoms over her head. She pressed her hands vehemently to her breast and faltered, "Oh, no, no! he will never come back!"
It grieved her to the heart that she had not said the little word "thou" to him when he begged so hard.
"Master Fabula," said Timar to his faithful steward, "this year we will not send the crop either to Raab or Komorn."
"What shall we do with it, then?"
"We will grind it here. I have two windmills on my property, and we can hire thirty water-mills; those will suffice."